


Santa Baby, One Little Thing...

by QuixoticMisnomer



Series: Ineffable Advent Calendar [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley loves puns and pranks, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Indecent use of the word soft, M/M, Sex Toys, Smut, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21592555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuixoticMisnomer/pseuds/QuixoticMisnomer
Summary: Aziraphale has a tough day with holiday shoppers, Crowley fixes him a drink and tries to cheer him up with a treat. A classic song, the bookshop in the snow, a mischievous demon.A quick, fun bit of smut to kick off the holiday season~"Silver and Gold" for 31 Days of Ineffables
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Advent Calendar [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560370
Comments: 13
Kudos: 128





	Santa Baby, One Little Thing...

Aziraphale collapsed with a ‘whump’ and a relieved sigh into the little brocade couch. The old cushions groaned along with him as he leaned back, twisting his head to try to work the tense muscles out of his neck. He couldn't help thinking- How in the world could he have been so damned stupid?

Outside the bookshop window’s dark glass above his desk, he could see the first of the promised storm’s snow beginning to fall on the beleaguered holiday shoppers. Large, gorgeous white fluffs falling oh so quietly, but no doubt causing more panic to the humans dashing from shop to shop on the streets of Soho. They’d have to head home soon to not get caught in the worst of it, and it was only a few days before Christmas, probably the last chance they’d have to finish up their shopping list. 

Serves them right, Aziraphale thought a little unkindly, giving up on his neck with a sigh, should be home doing something reasonable like drinking cocoa and reading by the fire with their loved ones. Not motoring around Soho asking ridiculous things like- Do you have gift wrapping? Where was the holiday book section? What do you mean you won’t sell me this copy of Dorian Gray?

Oh and that Crowley had laughed until he was scarlet up to his ears, just cackled like… well, like a demon. Aziraphale's face went hot again, thinking of it.

“What in the bloody fuck are you doing being OPEN?!” Crowley had said, dodging a spindly british grandma in a sweater lousy with red and green sequins that spelled out “JOY”. She looked like she was about to clock him with her gold pleather handbag if he remotely _hinted_ at cutting the line winding from the cashier stand.

Aziraphale winced. “You know how it is dear…” His shoulders shrugged hopelessly. His mouth was twitching as a grimace fought hard against the small polite smile he’d locked his jaw muscles into for the past hour. “I always have to stay open around The Holiday*.”

*The capitalization was really only warranted because after so many years of having to work extra in the middle of the bloody winter, both Aziraphale and Crowley had begun to refer to it only in dread. It was said more as a curse now, dare not speak its real name. Chr*stm*s.

Both of them had found, particularly in the last few centuries following industrialization in Britain, that the humans were the most… pliant around this time. They got so wound up, seesawing between anxious breakdowns and soulless consumerism, to soaring moments of charity and love.

Both upstairs and downstairs of course handed out more orders around The Holiday, more little temptations, more little “holiday miracles”. But in addition, Aziraphale and Crowley had each recognized they could get a year’s worth of work done in a few short weeks, or at least to last them until August if they stretched the timing in their reports just right.

Crowley, of course, had also written off the capitalistic nightmare humans had tied up in the Holiday as a job well done to downstairs, but Aziraphale had not been so lucky. Gabriel had, a few decades back, caught Aziraphale in a closed bookshop halfway through a bottle of port and a box of macarons in the midst of a busy Soho holiday shopping season, and had gotten it into his head that Aziraphale wasn’t using the bookshop’s potential to spread holiday cheer. That the doors should be flung open, free bibles handed out, every shopper made to feel cared for, etc. (Gabriel had just been to Harrod’s for the first time to pick up a new suit and unfortunately had bought in hard to the glitz and shiny uniforms, and immediately found Aziraphale lacking). Gabriel had even suggested (in that, it’s not really a suggestion sort of way) that Aziraphale _decorate the outside,_ to make it more… _welcoming and cheerful._

Aziraphale had put one little red bow on the door. Maybe it was off to the side, and a bit ragged, and possibly would be hard to see unless you turned your head just right, but it was there just the same.

Crowley’s face was now, in the crowded bookshop, fighting down a grin. It was a big snakey shit-eating grin that Aziraphale knew well and dreaded. He could see that grin trying to come to the surface, and it was up to no good. 

Crowley strode behind the counter to Aziraphale’s side, ignoring the slitted glares of humans at their most “jolly”. He was warm against the angel's arm, gold eyes glinting above his glasses, full of merriment and mischief. 

“Oh poor little Christmas angel…” Crowley did smile then. The angel blinked back at him, confused, brows drawing down in suspicion. Crowley slid his fingertips over Aziraphale’s hand on the counter, resting it on top of the angel’s, Aziraphale fought back a blush. Goodness, the simplicity of being touched still felt startlingly good, still felt like the first time they had...

“Did you forget you don’t work for them anymore?” Crowley purred around that horrid grin.

_Oh… Bollocks._

And Aziraphale promptly fainted. 

Well, not really. But Crowley, good lad, had seen it coming and caught him on the way down. It was not the first time the angel had pulled the "fainting overworked bookseller" routine. Then the demon had been kind enough to make a big fuss and kick everyone out, claiming the owner needed to be taken to the hospital. Aziraphale had thought he had done a rather excellent job looking pathetic and woeful under a blanket on the floor, had really sold it for his part.

It had also been nice to wallow in his misery down there on the old Persian rugs. It seemed impossible that since the apocanope he would forget he was no longer Heaven’s errand boy, but The Holiday had been looming suddenly and he’d opened his doors like clockwork, like he did every year, without realizing the only reason he did was because Gabriel forced him to. 

The door had finally shut rudely in the face of the last stubborn holiday shopper, and Crowley had just HOWLED with laughter until Aziraphale had thrown the blanket at him as he stomped outside to rip the bow off the door and throw it in the trash.

“Oh Satan, Your FACE” Crowley was doubled over, hand gripping a bookshelf to keep him upright. 

Oh and to add insult to injury, Aziraphale hadn’t even been able to relax then. Because all those customers had left books out of sorts everywhere. It had been a week of holiday shopping, and they’d just been putting books back in the wrong places, and sorting through things, and pushing his knick knacks around, and Aziraphale could just sense things were wrong. It had taken hours to set it to even close to rights, and now it was dark and snowing out. He needed a cup of tea, or a drink. Where had Crowley gotten to, he’d be up for a drink surely?

The demon had stuck around, trying to apologize but he kept whistling the tune to "Happy Holidays" until Aziraphale sent him out for some takeaway for dinner. He'd brought back an extra order of baklava for the sullen angel, and since then had been skulking around the bookshop for a few hours, staying out of Aziraphale’s way and playing music on the old record player.

Still sitting up on the couch Aziraphale straightened his vest and began rolling his light blue shirt sleeves back down from where he’d pushed them up bustling around reshelved books. He heard the record player scratch as the needle was lifted, a whispering papery sound as another record was taken out and mounted. 

**Baboom… baboom...ba-ba-baboom...**

**Santa Baby, just slip a sable under the tree,**

**For me.**

Ah Eartha, such a charming woman, Aziraphale thought as he concentrated on getting the cufflinks back in. Lord knows he didn’t hate Christmas. It could be ruddy good fun! All the twinkly lights everywhere, people throwing marvelous parties centered around feasting, cocoa and treats, sweet little presents all tied up with colorful bows. Humans had always been damn clever over the millenia, figuring out new ways to light up the darkest part of the year.

The sound of clicking heels on the floorboards made Aziraphale look up to see Crowley sauntering over to him, a tumbler of alcohol in hand. What a blessed sight.

**Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,**

**So hurry down the chimney tonight.**

Crowley was wearing a tight red turtleneck, trim but soft looking. With his black slacks and sharp black snakeskin loafers, it nearly looked like he was heading to a Christmas party. The single gold earring and matching red lipstick he had been wearing all afternoon only completed the effect. Aziraphale smiled warmly at him, as he always did when he remembered he could, that the slinky, gorgeous, sweet, flash demon was all his to enjoy.

**Santa baby, a 54 convertible too,**

**Light blue.**

The sleeves of the sweater were pushed up, showing auburn furred forearms, the wiry lines of them flexing as he leaned forward to hand the whiskey to Aziraphale and place a lipsticked kiss to his forehead. A little bubble of fizzy joy popping in his chest at the loving care in the simple gesture.

**I’ll wait up for you dear, Santa baby,**

**So hurry down the chimney tonight.**

“Oh you absolutely wonderful creature. Thank you” Aziraphale sighed grateful, closing his eyes blissfully as he first pressed the cold tumbler to his swiftly warming cheek and then took a long sip of smokey scotch. Goodness sometimes that old serpent really just was worth all the trouble, wasn’t he. He opened his eyes at the sound of a “thunk”. Crowley was still standing close in front of him, slightly between Aziraphale’s stretched out legs, and was reaching behind him to remove his other shoe and toss it to carpet with the first.

**Think of all the fun I’ve missed,**

**Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed.**

Aziraphale looked up, a brow raised quizzically as he took another long sip of scotch. Oh, that peaty, smooth-thick slip of over his tongue was marvelous. Crowley smirked, almost sweet at the edges, at him, but his flashing golden eyes were half-lidded and full of trouble. Aziraphale opened his mouth to ask what he was up to-

**Next year I could be just as good…**

Crowley bent slightly, his smirk sliding right out of sweet and deepening into feline and predatory. He began dragging his hands slowly up his thighs from his knees, the fine black fabric of his slacks bunching and tightening...

**If you’ll check off my Christmas list.**

Aziraphale choked. Crowley’s palms continued their slow pull upwards, his thumbs dipping between his thighs to frame what was now a very obvious straining bulge. 

**Santa baby, I wanna yacht, and really that’s not**

**A lot.**

Crowley’s hands paused ever so slightly, pushing down agonizingly slow, dipping deeper between his thighs, then back up quickly, hips rocking forward slightly. Aziraphale’s eyes were locked on the tight press of the fabric, jostling and pulling at the thick erection right at eye level and so close. Merciful _heavens_.

**Been singing angels all year,**

**Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.**

Crowley’s long tapered fingers slid and pulled up the joint where his legs met his pelvis, still dragging on the fabric. It was so tight Aziraphale could see the head of Crowley’s cock twitch slightly as he stared, blood pounding in his ears. Was that the smoke from the scotch or was that coming out of his blasted ears?

At his hips, Crowley caught the ribbed edges of his red sweater just barely with his fingertips, pulling it up slowly now, revealing a tantalizing stripe of taut pale skin.

**Santa honey, one little thing I really need,**

**The deed**

**To a platinum mine,**

As Crowley kept dragging the sweater up in increments, hips now swaying slightly to the music, Azirpahle caught sight of the straps of a black thong slung high over Crowley’s hips. His eyes flicked up momentarily. Crowley grinned down at him, and pulled the sweater higher, watching Aziraphale, who couldn’t help staying focused at the skin there, desperate for what else would be revealed.

The sweater caught at the top of the straps, tensing and tugging slightly...

**So hurry down the chimney tonight.**

The sweater finally gave way with a kind of soft pop, revealing two red bows attached to the straps. Aziraphale felt something cold and damp on his leg. Distantly he realized he’d been dripping the scotch onto his pantleg for the past minute as he lost the feeling in his hands.

**Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex,**

**And checks**

Crowley paused, still swaying gently, making the little red bows bounce slightly from their perch on his hip bones. There was a ‘thump’ as the tumbler hit the floor. Aziraphale was hypnotized but those little red bows bouncing and tails swaying, the black straps sliding and grabbing at the skin underneath. He’d never seen Crowley in anything but tight black boxer briefs, never knew he wanted to. Never knew there was any chance the sight of a red bow would make his blessed stomach flip over with shivery want.

Finally Crowley began pulling the turtleneck all the way off, giving the angel a good show of lean, flexing muscles and the stretched long snakey torso.

**Sign your ‘X’ on the line,**

**Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.**

Crowley’s chest was glittering gold, particularly down his neck and around dark, furred nipples. Literally gold, Aziraphale knew the bottle of lotion with gold flecks in it Crowley had showed him. It made slitted snake eyes and earring flare brightly in the low bookshop light. Lord he looked like a present, a Christmas treat, like a gold-dusted truffle to be enjoyed by the fire, fed into your lovers lips slowly, dark chocolate ganache licked from fingers...

**Come and trim my Christmas tree,**

**With some decorations bought at Tiffany’s.**

Crowley smiled smugly, knowing Aziraphale’s tells well enough to guess at the affect he was having. Pleased, the demon bent over and kissed Aziraphale lightly, a soft brush of lips that plucked strings of sharp need in the angels stomach. Crowley kissed him softly again, teasing, then flicked his tongue forward between the angels astonished, parted lips. With a jolt, Aziraphale realized he was painfully, outrageously hard. His cock was practically tearing the seams of his pants. _God, if you’re listening_ , he thought, _thank you for this insane demon, thank you for this. Merciful heavens I love him, even when he’s out to kill me. Especially when._ Aziraphale tried to lean forward into the kiss, gasping a bit as he remembered breathing.

**I really do believe in you,**

**Let’s see if you believe in me.**

But Crowley already had leaned back, lips out of reach, though he had ended up practically between Aziraphale’s knees. He’d also, somehow, gotten the angel’s bowtie undone and now had the long strip of tartan playfully between his teeth. The angel reached out a shaking hand for all that delicious glittering flesh, oh what a blessing his hands were working again. Crowley grabbed it and placed it one bony hip, winking down at Aziraphale. Then he reached down and popped the button on his slacks.

**Santa baby,**

Zzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiiiipp. Went the zipper in one long, thick glide. Aziraphale’s face was red and probably steaming, his mouth now in a frantic, lunatic smile, his eyes wide in impatient delight.

**forgot to mention one little thing,**

A delicious looking cock tried to push free, caged in by the thong’s front panel of sheer black lace. It was long, the foreskin nearly pulled back, revealing a weeping head that was nearly purple it was so hard. Precum had already leaked from the tip and dampened the top of the panties where the head was poking free over the top eagerly. Aziraphale's lips tingled with want at the sight.

_bzzZzzzzz…._

**A ring.**

Looking down to the base of the shaft, Aziraphale’s brows rose in surprise. There was a black double cock ring at the base, two black silicone rings wrapped tightly around each the shaft and balls, with an attached small bullet vibrator buzzing away, jostling the whole package. Literally a package, a present of a demon insane enough to keep himself on the edge and hard just to present his engorged shaft and twitching balls to Aziraphale. The angel’s own cock twitched hungrily in his pants, sending more aching, horrible, jealous, fierce lust racing down Aziraphale’s spine.

**I don’t mean on the phone,**

Crowley groaned around the bowtie fabric in his mouth, head back as his cock finally pushed free as the zipper made it all the way down. Pulling his fingers back along the top of his pants, he freed them from his hips and let the pants fall to the floor in one glorious silky slide. He’d even put some gold glitter up the insides of his thighs and down his iliac crest to his cock. As if Aziraphale needed any more bloody _tempting._ As if he didn’t know _exactly_ where he wanted to park his mouth for the _next week._

**Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.**

Aziraphale was going to bloody discorporate. He was. Right here. Crowley’s cock was bouncing, tenting all that sheer black lace as that glorious head pushed forward, so eager…

**Hurry down the chimney tonight.**

His hands were against Crowley’s hips, surely they would do something useful soon. Something like drag those hips forward so Aziraphale could tongue at that clear drip of fluid hanging temptingly down from the slit. Or pull the demon right into his lap where he could put his hands all over that glorious, glittery terror and have his own little Christmas feast of Crowley’s delicious lips and desperate moans. 

**Hurry tonight.**

One thumb dumbly stroked over over one of the bows, catching on it. The strap of the thong _pulled_. Crowley bit down hard and gave out a muffled cry as it dragged and rubbed the fabric at the top, right under the base of the head of his cock, against that little spot in the front Aziraphale knew he was extra sensitive.

Crowley’s eyes flashed down at him dangerously. He grabbed Aziraphale’s hands and pulled them around to his ass. And oh, the angel did not mind. That firm, pert arse was a delight to fondle and rub and, as he found out, completely exposed beneath the g-string. Crowley kept his hands on the angel’s, his hips twitching back slightly as Aziraphale began to dig his broad, sure fingers into those cheeks. The angel’s eyes went back to the straining cock in front of him, now much closer. He leaned forward to finally lick at that arrogant swollen head that had been asking for his attention.

Against his lips, the buzzy vibrations from the cock ring smeared Crowley’s head around, twitching and smearing that purely Crowley woody, clove, and sweat taste all over Aziraphale’s waiting tongue. He groaned against it, his lips buzzed as he leaned forward more, nose brushing against the thatch of fiery red hair going from Crowley’s navel and sauntered downwards. He went to tug Crowley forward, to drink down more of that taste and that hard cock, when he realized something.

His hands were now tied together behind Crowley’s back. He tugged slightly, feeling fabric had been wrapped tightly around his wrists and obviously reinforced with a demonic miracle. He frowned and glanced up, his tongue still licking at that leaking slit. The bowtie Crowley had been clenching in his teeth was gone, replaced with an open smile, Crowley’s long forked tongue hanging out and flicking at him slightly as he panted in pleasure. Crowley’s cheeks were quite red too, sweat showing at his brows. 

The demon reached down as Aziraphale began to pull off his mouth to berate him. Threading long fingers in curly blonde hair, Crowley gently twitched his hips forward, pushing another inch into Aziraphale’s open mouth, and hissed happily.

Oh he was going to kill him. Aziraphale thought, snorting slightly at his mouth getting suddenly filled. The vibrator buzzed at his chin as he licked stubbornly, trying to get his tongue down inside the lace holding back the shaft. That settled it, Aziraphale was going to suck this son of hell so dry, he wouldn’t remember his cursed own name, then throw him in the bed upstairs to wring moans and shuddering orgasms out of that demon straight through next week, and THEN he was going to bloody well murder him. Just to show him exactly which Principality he was dealing with. 

Crowley moved his hands down Aziraphale’s neck, and squeezing those broad shoulders. He was whimpering little gleeful shouts and moans as Aziraphale laved his tongue against the tip with no small amount of spite.

Aziraphale popped off Crowley’s cock in shock as the demon suddenly firmly pushed him back onto the couch cushions. Crowley climbed up to kneel over Aziraphale’s lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Crowley leaned forward and slid his tongue up the angels ear, long forked tongue going up to curl around the outside. Aziraphale was digging his nails into his bound palms, gasping as another long lick went up the side of his face. It was so lewd and filthy the way Crowley did that. It cracked Aziraphale open, made him stupid with debased want, made him forget anything but chasing more skin and wetness, more of that slick hot syrup of lust sliding around under his skin.

Crowley pressed his lips against the ear, holding Aziraphale firmly to the back of the couch, the angels tied hands inched up around his waist in a forced embrace. Aziraphale could smell the scotch on Crowley’s breath, a whiskey tang he wanted to lick from the back of his teeth. 

“Sssanta baby…” Crowley purred, pausing to the lick the sweat from Aziraphale’s brow. “Been an awful good lad, Sssanta honey…” Aziraphale groaned, instinctively yanking at his wrists again. Crowley hummed back, breathing heatedly against the angel’s ear. It felt like having warm oil poured over his back, a shudder went through Aziraphale, leaving him shaky all over.

“Crowley, please…” the angel choked off, his inside of his thighs felt all shivery and loose, like they were made of molten silver. He could barely think. Everywhere they touched burned.

Crowley pulled back, still grinning. He looked down at Aziraphale’s chest and then-

He pressed the length of his cock up against Aziraphale’s vest, sliding against and pressing into the angels stomach. The angels brows shot up. Crowley’s canted his hips back and pushed forward again, fucking up against Aziraphale. The lace of his panties dragging up and down his shaft as the head popped free to rub indecently against the soft velvet of Aziraphale’s vest. 

“Mmmm sssso ssssoft Angel…” Crowley moaned, pressing his cock again and again into the slight give of Aziraphale’s stomach

“Crowley! Oh!” Aziraphale struggled harder against his bonds, yanking Crowley in. Crowley moaned and let himself be pressed up against Aziraphale, his cock trapped in that lace and velvet cage . Like he’d planned it that way. He kept grinding up and down, hips snaking cleverly to get what he wanted, a wet slippery patch of velvet starting to suck slightly at the underside of his head in the most perfectly lewd way as he dripped and leaked horrendously.

Aziraphale was thrashing softly against Crowley’s hands pinning him down to the sofa, too distracted by the hard weighty cock pressing insistently into his stomach, using him. Aziraphale’s hips jolted up weakly, as if he could just reach that ass thrusting and twitching a few inches above it he’d be saved. All that happened was at the downstroke of Crowley’s hips, the buzzing bullet of the vibrator got low enough to tease at his cock still trapped inside his pants. 

Oh the bloody cock ring. Aziraphale realized Crowley was keeping himself from coming, that he could just sit and rub and torture himself and Aziraphale on the angel’s stomach all night. Might very well have that planned, the thrice damned masochist.

Right. Enough was bloody well enough. Aziraphale flexed his muscles hard. The bowtie fabric exploded into shreds around his wrists. He grabbed Crowley by the hips and flung him down onto the couch. Crowley shrieked, half breathless, half laughing as the angel snapped his fingers and rid himself of all bookshop clothes before climbing on top of the demon.

Crowley saw the dark, blazing look in his eyes and made to scramble away, but Aziraphale grabbed him by the wrists and pressed them above the demons head with one hand. Crowley arched his back, hard nipples pert and begging for attention, to be bitten and worked. 

Aziraphale kneed Crowley’s legs apart and pressed himself in between.

“Please Aziraphale, please!” Crowley moaned thrusting his hips up now, the wanton greedy thing. 

_Bzzz… bzzz…_

Aziraphale frowned, then snapped a miracle, and both the cock ring and lacey panties were gone. 

Crowley gasped and then without any further provocation, threw his head back and came hard. He howled beneath Aziraphale, yanking at his pinned arms, thrusting hips shooting white ropes to splatter all over his gold glittered chest. 

“Ah! Ah-ahAziraphale” Crowley gasped, another pulse of his cock giving a final stream of sticky spunk to ooze over his navel. Aziraphale stared down wide-eyed at the thoroughly debauched demon writhing weakly beneath him. He was practically mewling.

The angel’s smiled a menacing leer down at Crowley. The demon whined, stomach muscles twitching as Aziraphale used his free hand to slide a finger through the mess. The angel swiped up a glob of cum and immediately pressed it against Crowley’s open mouth. The demon was too pleasure drunk to pretend to not want it, he immediately laved it up obediently, sucking gently at the pad of the angel’s finger as his eyes drifted closed.

“Ohhhhh Angel…” Crowley purred. Little snakey flickering licks moving over the angels’ open palm. “Was wondering when you’d come to your senses…” Aziraphale smirked.

“I’m glad you got your first one out of the way darling. Now it’s my turn to have a little fun with my Christmas present.” Aziraphale said, grabbing a thigh and turning him over onto his knees. Crowley yelped and scrambled to grab onto the faded sofa arm for dear life.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading dear perverts!
> 
> Man, honestly I really imagined this in comic form. No words except the song lyrics, all slinky demon hips, seen from the back up with Aziraphale's shocked, blushing face facing the reader, ending with that "bzzzz....." on "a ring". It was going to take a million years to draw though and I'm working on Christmas art right now. If you fulfill my dreams and make anything based on this PLEASE send it to me.
> 
> Find me as Cranky Aster  
> Artstagram: www.instagram.com/cranky_aster  
> Tumblr: www.cranky-aster.tumblr.com


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